Stranger Things
by Raving-Lunatic
Summary: If she traced the timeline of their friendship, she was forced to realize that most of their bonding had taken place on the battlefield. Humans and turians were not expected to be friends, and they spent a long time dancing around their affinity for each other. Neither one of them wanted to presume too much... GarrusXfemShep moments from ME1 to ME3.
1. Camraderie

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **This will be a series of vignettes building the relationship between my femshep, Khalia Col Shepard, and Garrus Vakarian. It's an exercise to help me illustrate the moments that I feel would be important toward putting their courtship into context without having to write a complete story. It starts in ME1 somewhere before Virmire. Khalia is Earthborn, the Butcher of Torfan, and a Vanguard. From a strategic standpoint, Garrus and Kaidan are the best compliments for her skill sets with Wrex and Tali being a favorable second (balanced Biotic, Tech and Military abilities). Just to give you some sense of the reasoning behind her squad choices.

Very rarely did they stop at the Citadel without the Commander being whisked away to the Citadel Tower for some conference or other with the Council.

Whenever her business with the diplomats was completed, Shepard would run to and fro, completing various and tedious errands. Garrus was often amazed by the magnitude of people who were allowed to drop their dirty laundry in the Commander's lap. At first, he was mystified by her patience, until he began to see the beneficial outcomes that often followed. Every little tidbit and reward she received, usually brought them a small part of the way closer toward their goal.

This time, however, Shepard and her two followers found themselves with a spare chunk of free time on their hands. Garrus could see by her fidgeting that Shepard wasn't entirely comfortable with the idleness.

Ashley, it seemed, was content to stare out at the massive arms of the Citadel and track the motion of passing ships. He felt relatively comfortable in the silence of his companions, waiting the six hours until the routine maintenance on the Normandy was completed. He supposed he would rather be in the shuttle bay, cleaning his weapons for the hundredth time. But, the maintenance team from the Alliance had been very specific that they needed the full space of the interior of the ship.

Garrus suspected that this "routine maintenance", suspiciously mandated by Captain Anderson, was a clever ruse to foist the Commander off the ship and force her to get a smidgen of "R&R", as he had heard Kaidan put it.

They had reached a minor lull in their investigation of Saren and so, Shepard had decided to stop by the Citadel to wrap up a few loose ends with her many side projects. Ashley mentioned a desire to visit the Markets and look for new heavy armor. She felt she was ready for the upgrade, and had nearly begged the Commander to let her tag along and use their Alliance requisition funds to buy her a new set.

Shepard really didn't need convincing. They had found out very early on that Shepard seemed to enjoy spending money on her crew. Their odd band of misfits suddenly found new weapons and armor in their individual lockers on a regular basis.

Garrus, as had frequently begun to happen, found himself at the Commander's right hand. No one really contested his position as the second in her customary three-man team. He hardly even thought about it.

Two hours later, their errands quickly concluded, the small team returned to the ship to rest up and prepare for their scheduled departure in a few hours. However, they found themselves turned away at the airlock by a pair of Alliance marines. Shepard had nearly pitched a fit, until one of the Majors on scene had dropped Anderson's name. The Commander clammed up after that, but even Garrus could see the hard edge in her eyes as they left.

Now, he cleared his throat uncertainly as he watched the Commander scratch a deep groove into the metal railing in front of them.

She glanced at him briefly, then paused, when she realized he was staring at her. He tried his best to make his smile as obvious as possible. In his experience, humans were often unable to recognize Turian facial expressions.

"What?"

"I was just thinking," he said slowly, "why don't we go up to Flux and grab a few drinks?"

He gestured behind him, to the staircase that led up to the dance club.

Shepard made a face.

"And what? Spend 20 credits on a drink? I don't think so," she said, returning to her scratching.

"There's always Chora's Den, Commander," Ashley said, smirking.

The Commander straightened for a moment and stared out at the interstellar traffic beyond. Then, she slapped her palm against the railing, startling them both.

"All right, let's go get drunk," she said resolutely.

Garrus followed her toward the staircase without hesitation, laughing. Ashley trailed behind, a protest half-formed on her lips. The Gunnery Chief put her hand over her face and sighed.

"Why do I ever speak?"

They made it to Chora's Den in record time, with Garrus almost trotting to keep up with the Commander's stride. It seemed that, now she had a definitive directive, she intended to carry it out with expedient precision.

"Commander should we really-?"

"Calm down, Chief. It's just a little after-hours, downtime," Shepard interjected blithely. "He wants to see me relax, I'll show him how friggin' relaxed I am," she added, under her breath.

Garrus and Ashley exchanged troubled looks. Both of them had followed Shepard as she power walked all the way from the Docking Bay to the Embassies. They had been firmly denied entrance into the Human Embassy office, but both of them had been able to hear Shepard's voice through the automatic door. They weren't sure what Anderson had said in reply, but the Commander had exited the office seeming calmer, but no less angry. Garrus suspected that the phrase "That's an order," had probably been thrown into the conversation. Shepard was many things, but she was an Alliance Officer first.

He liked that about her.

Four shots of brandy later, and he was worried that the Commander was taking the Captain's orders a little too seriously. She seemed capable of handling her liquor fairly well, but he was beginning to worry about Ashley. Shepard had challenged the Gunnery Chief to keep up with her or she would return the armor they had just bought. Williams, it seemed, was not a heavy drinker by nature.

Shepard ordered a round of beers as an act of mercy, but the Gunnery Chief had already put her head on the table and fallen asleep.

"She passed out fast," Shepard said, pouting. "I kind of expected her to put up more of a fight, being an enlisted girl."

"Some people just aren't cut out for it," Garrus said, smiling, and finished his drink. "Body mass, and all," he concluded.

"Excuse me, are you calling me fat?" Shepard looked outraged, but her eyes were grinning.

"No, no," he said smirking, "Just you know...bulky."

"I'll have you know that under all this armor, I am very slender and I look fantastic naked."

Garrus stared at her.

_Round one, Shepard, _he thought absently.

The Commander suddenly seemed distraught and sighed.

"They couldn't even let us change first?"

He shrugged.

"I prefer my armor," he said, rolling his shoulders. "I always feel exposed in civilian clothes."

"I can relate to that," she said, nodding. "Still, sitting in a booth in heavy armor isn't exactly comfortable."

He laughed as she shifted around in her seat, rearranging herself into more and more exaggerated positions. By the time she settled back into her seat, they were both laughing loud enough to be heard over the deep drum of the music. Ashley stirred in her sleep, and the pair of them put their fingers to their lips and chided one another for being too noisy. However, their synchronized shushing only made them laugh harder.

"You should be ashamed of yourself!"

They both turned toward the loud voice, caught off-guard.

Standing over their booth was an old man. He seemed drunk, which, Garrus supposed, you'd have to be in order to come over and yell at Commander Shepard.

Shepard, regaining a smooth veneer of military bearing, chose to be diplomatic.

"I apologize if we disturbed you sir," she responded calmly. "Won't happen again."

She tipped her drink his way and took a sip.

"I don't give a shit about your hollering," he growled, loud enough to be heard over the bass, "I mean you're sitting here cavorting with one of them raptors...in public!"

Shepard glanced quickly at Garrus, and he could tell that she was reading his face for a reaction to the old man's slur. Garrus shrugged in reply. He was a C-Sec Officer. Racial tensions with humans, particularly those old enough to remember the "First Contact War" as they knew it, was an every day hazard of the workplace. He had heard it all.

He saw Shepard's eyes narrow, ever so slightly, and braced himself.

"Sir," she said, turning her attention back to the man beside her. By now the old codger had launched into a diatribe that spanned the entirety of Garrus's lineage and denounced them all as baby eaters and criminals.

"**Sir," **she said again, and this time the heavy tone of her voice stopped the man mid-sentence.

"Who I keep company with is no concern of yours," she said simply.

"It damn well is when you're a member of the _human _Alliance. If people see you galavanting with one of these buzzard-beaked, shit-eaters, they'll start getting ideas-"

He stopped, because Shepard had stood as soon as the words left his mouth. She was nose to nose with the old veteran, and Garrus knew that very few people in the galaxy could bear the weight of that particular gaze. The old man swallowed, hard.

"That's twice now that you've insulted a member of _my _crew. When you insult my _crew_ you insult _me_, and I don't take kindly to being insulted. Do you know who I am?"

The man seemed to rally some of his temper.

"Shepard," he spat, "the first _human _Spectre. A Council _puppet_."

"Think about that for a second. What do you think it would cost me to have your attitude...adjusted?"

She waited for the old man's expression to soften with the dawning realization that this woman could have him ejected in space without any fear of consequence.

"That's right, now you've got it," she said, smiling kindly. "Now I think, as a Spectre, that when I tell you you've had enough to drink and it's time to go home, that you would agree with me. Don't you?"

He nodded, adam's apple bobbing nervously in his throat, and made a beeline for the front door.

By now, the immediate area around them had gone a bit quieter. The other side of the bar still throbbed with conversation, and the music still thumped in their heads, but everyone around them was surreptitiously focused on the Commander. She sat back down without a word and finished her beer.

"I would give anything for a good larger that hasn't been transported several light years through space, first," she said miserably.

Garrus dropped his head toward the table, laughing hysterically.

"What?" She said, genuinely confused. "Do I amuse you?"

"Immensely," he said fondly.

They fell into a companionable silence, as Garrus found himself dwelling on something unusual.

Finally, he said, "Do you feel that way about Turians?"

She glanced up at him, her finger tracing patterns in the condensation on the table.

"Feel what way?"

He shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable. He and the Commander had had several conversations aboard the Normandy thus far. He enjoyed her company, and she seemed to be the only person who fully trusted his judgement and capabilities. More than that, she trusted his instincts. But they had never really done any serious digging into their...unique camaraderie.

"A lot of humans dislike Turians because of the war. I used to see it all the time when I was working at C-Sec. Sure, on paper everything is nice and civil. But that old man was right, you don't see a lot of turians and humans having a nice time over a couple of drinks."

Shepard gave it some thought.

"I grew up on Earth," she said simply. "I didn't see my first alien until I was almost twenty. Sometimes they freak me out, but all I see is people. Doesn't matter what they look like, deep down they're all just people."

Garrus realized then, that he probably hadn't even needed to ask.

Shepard was always asking questions. He had noticed that she seemed relatively ignorant of the many different species that populated the galaxy, but she never settled for ignorance. She was always trying to learn, to discover more about the aliens she encountered. She accepted everything they taught her with an open mind. In a way, he understood what she meant. Shepard's diplomacy and her accepting nature was almost Asari, but her loyalty to her crew and her tactical mind made her seem a little Turian, too. Then again, maybe humans were the only species who were capable of being so mercurial.

"So being friends with a Turian isn't strange to you?"

She glanced at him, her green eyes suddenly penetrating.

"No, it isn't strange," she said, leaning forward on the table. "And yes, we are friends."

He smiled, and hoped she couldn't see it.

But when she grinned at him in reply, he felt for sure that she could.

"Who knows? Maybe after you help me take down Saren, the public opinion will change. We could even see turian and human relationships."

Garrus made a derisive noise in reply.

"Please, we can't even eat the same food."

She smiled at him.

"Stranger things have happened."

XXX


	2. Calibrations

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: ****EDIT******These aren't going to be completely in order. Takes place during ME2, somewhere after the entire team has been collected and BEFORE the Collector trap has been sprung.

For her, it started on a night when they were all together, trading stories.

Shepard only brought a two man team with her on every mission. As time went on, she tended to bring the same people, unless the mission required someone with specific skill sets or attachments. Most of the crew only knew what happened in the aftermath and only if a member of the participating squad decided to divulge the details.

It led to a tradition of gathering together during rare moments of free time and trading information. At first, most of their get-togethers were purely accidental. They would stumble into the common areas and find themselves, miraculously, not alone. It was only natural that they would start to plan their meetings. Someone would mention an opportunity for recreation in their schedule, and another would agree to make time.

The word traveled up the chain, until Garrus was asking Shepard if she could spare any free time on their way to the next system.

She had agreed, mostly because she was exhausted. Spending a night with her friend instead of bent over reports or the galaxy map sounded wonderful. Garrus had been dodging her for weeks, always shirking her inquiries and fiddling with the main gun. She knew the damn thing was calibrated just fine; if he tweaked it any further he would be breaking the laws of physics. He was searching for Sidonis and she didn't understand why he wouldn't let her _help _him. It made her sad and angry and all she wanted to do was talk to her friend.

She wasn't expecting to walk into the Mess area and find half the crew.

Really, she should have known. She had noticed that large groups of her personnel were suddenly disappearing all at once. It didn't bother her. If they were bonding, then it would make everything they had to do so much easier. She had been so afraid that the vast differences in allegiances would tear them apart beneath her. But their common tragedy of losing loved ones to the Collectors, though heartbreaking, seemed to be drawing them together.

It was a relief.

And a bit lonely.

She had not been quiet about her distrust of Cerberus. She had certainly not hidden her fury about being forced to work with them after Kaidan's rejection on Horizon. Shepard often stared at the symbols on every pair of black and white shirts in her bureau and considered ripping them off.

The crew didn't seem to resent her for her distrust. She had made a point to meet with each of them and, as individuals, she had found them to be reasonable people with similar goals: defeat the Collectors. They had that in common, and that was as far as she wanted to pursue it. For now.

Rather, it seemed the crew was keeping their distance. Shepard was a busy woman with heavy burdens. They didn't think to trouble her with their casual banter and shared stories. Many of them had their own troubles: loose ends that needed tying before they breached the Omega 4 Relay. It kept them all a little...distracted.

So, when she stepped off the elevator and rounded the corner in her sweat pants and a tank top, everything went a little quiet. Everyone was there. Samara had drawn herself from her meditations and was perched elegantly at the larger of the two tables. Garrus sat on the tabletop closest to her, leaning over Tali in the seat. Jack was lounging on the stairs to the main battery, trying to piss off Miranda who was sulking with a wine glass in her hand. Jacob and Grunt were in the middle of an arm wrestling match in the kitchen area, surrounded by eager gamblers.

She could see Mordin and Dr. Chawkwas across the room, the older woman never hovering too far from the Med Bay. Thane, though one of the newest addition to her glass menagerie of squad mates, had drawn himself out of the shadows as well. She didn't see Zaeed or Kasumi, but she knew that didn't mean they weren't there. Even Joker was sitting at one of the tables, beside the two odd little engineers Cerberus had given her.

And of course, EDI was everywhere.

She heard Garrus hold back a snort of laughter behind his fist and her face went red. It had been a long time since anyone had ever made her blush and Shepard panicked.

"Uhm. May I...come in?"

Garrus's laughter was so surprising that everyone jumped. He fell off his perch on the table and was pushed aside by Tali. Laughter from everyone else quickly followed suit.

For a heartbreaking second she felt she might have just lost the respect of everyone under her command. She had never had to deal with this before. People rarely every disrespected her. The people who had, usually wound up dead.

But there were people, some of whom she wasn't even sure she _knew_, coming toward her with smiles on their faces and open arms. They welcomed her into the wider circle, and everyone wanted to _talk _to her. Questions came at her like gunfire, rapid in succession and piercing. She wasn't used to socializing. Her work had always consumed her focus. It was the reason she was so good- so sought after.

She knew how to talk to people one-on-one. She understood the rules of a civil conversation. But there were so many of them and she was quickly confused.

Garrus, as always, came to her rescue.

"All right, give the woman a second to breathe you pyjacks," he intoned loudly. His hand on her lower back made her face flush, and she felt that panic tightening her chest again.

_Two-for-two, Vakarian, _she thought angrily, and then wondered- why?

He led her to the center table with Joker. She was easily accessible- from a distance. Even with all her talent for battle, she could never pick a good vantage point like he could.

"Hey Shepard, you've got good timing."

Joker's was the first friendly voice she was grateful to hear. Bantering with Joker was easy- he did all the heavy lifting for you. Which was ironic, really.

"Oh yeah? How do you figure that," she said a little sullenly. She had a feeling there was going to be a joke at her expense, after this.

"Garrus and Thane were just telling us about your assault on the Dantius Towers," he said, grinning. Except, the way he said it made her sound like an ancient warrior storming a castle, instead of a three man team infiltrating a building. "Jack has been accusing Garrus of gross exaggeration, care to clear that up for us? Of course you could always go join the betting pool against Jacob back there."

He gestured behind him, where Grunt was smashing Jacob's fist into the kitchen counter. Shepard winced in sympathy.

"I think an opportunity to deflate the turian's ego sounds much better," she said, smirking sidelong at Garrus beside her.

"Take your best shot," he teased.

_Challenge accepted_, she thought.

"All right, where did you leave off?"

"My favorite part, actually," Garrus replied. "The merc by the window."

Shepard put her palm over her face as soon as she saw the expression on Joker's.

"_What_?" he asked, grinning from ear to ear. "That sounds like the title of a bad vid. Do tell."

Shepard held up a hand.

"It's not as bad as it sounds-,"

"No, it's better," Garrus interrupted.

"We came out of the elevators and there was one Eclipse Merc-,"

"He was so distracted by his phone call that he let us walk right up on him. By the time he realized we were there, we had him trapped between us and a very long way down," Garrus interjected again. Shepard glared at him.

"Are you going to let me tell it or not?"

There were a few chuckles around the room as the turian scratched his neck a little bashfully and gestured for her to continue. But now that she had been given the floor, she was a little uncertain of what to say. She was used to recounting these events scientifically; typing up the facts and presenting them in ordered reports. She suspected that in this context, that might come off a little cold.

"Well, uhm, I asked him where the- uh, where Thane was. He wouldn't give me a straight answer. So I...pushed him out the window," she said, shrugging. Someone handed her a drink and she took it. When she took a sip, she was a little surprised to realize it was alcoholic.

Joker was staring at her with his mouth open.

"Wow you are _terrible_ at telling stories," he said.

She glowered at him.

"What? That's what happened," she said defensively.

"Why did you push him out the window, Commander?" A soft voice said from off to the side.

Shepard glanced up and found Kelly Chambers watching her, a little sadly. She hadn't really decided how she felt about the Yeoman. On the one hand, it was convenient to have a secretary. On the other hand, sometimes the yeoman's loving nature made the Commander wary.

She realized the others were waiting for an answer. Shepard shrugged.

"He wasn't going to tell me anything because he didn't know anything. I wasn't about to let him run back and warn his friends but a firefight would have drawn unnecessary attention. The window was the most efficient means of solving the problem."

"If you knew you were going to kill him, why bother exchanging words at all?

Chambers had her there.

"False sense of security? If he believed I needed something from him, he was more likely to put his guard down."

The yeoman didn't look convinced and Shepard began to get irritated. She wasn't accustomed to being questioned.

"I got fed up with the conversation and he wasn't worth wasting bullets on. Pushing him off was more convenient."

"Killing a man for convenience? That's cold, Shepard," Jacob said from her other side. He was leaning against the wall that separated the two dining tables and rubbing his shoulder.

"Look," she said, her tone carefully neutral, "if you two have a problem with the way I run things, you're free to leave at the next port. This mission is too important to have people with doubts on my team."

Kelly held up her hands, a gesture of surrender.

"Not at all Commander. I just think it's sad that someone who seems to care so much about her crew has to be so ruthless."

Shepard kept her face relaxed, and lifted a shoulder indifferently. That word had dogged her career since Torfan. She knew she could be cold and calculating in moments of violence. She knew that death affected her less than it did other people. She also knew that, that facet of her personality often separated her from the billions of other people who speckled the galaxy with life. It was hard to relate to someone who could not comprehend death as a means to an end the way that she could.

She tried not to let it make her uncomfortable, but her brutality wasn't always something she was proud of. Like now.

The conversation had moved on without her. Joker quickly filled the silence before it could become awkward and she was vaguely aware of the banter that whizzed over her head. She brought her glass to her lips and drank deeply, a little grateful for the buzz. Miranda had once criticized her for drinking too often. Shepard had politely told her to shove it up her perfect ass.

She was drawn out of her contemplation of her empty glass as Chambers sat down in the chair to her left.

"I'm sorry if I offended you, Commander," she said quietly.

Shepard shrugged.

"Don't worry about it, Chambers," she replied evenly.

"If I may ask, what made you the way you are?"

Shepard glanced at her, a little surprised by the probing question. How was she even expected to answer that?

"It's what the job requires," she said uncertainly. She was suddenly wary of where the conversation was heading.

"There's more than one way to do a job," Kelly countered gently.

She was aware that Garrus, always present at her right hand, was listening intently to the exchange. Shepard shifted uncomfortably under their combined scrutiny and was grateful that none of the others were paying much attention.

"I grew up on Earth," she said simply. "The slums were hard, I had to be harder."

Kelly smiled knowingly, as if she could see something in the Commander's face that she hadn't intended to reveal.

"You question everyone so thoroughly, I'm surprised at how guarded you are when the tables are turned," she said, her voice kind.

"I don't often talk about my past," she murmured, and wished she had another drink in hand.

She had only talked about her past with a few people, and only briefly. Ashley and Kaidan had both been privy to her childless upbringing, but even they had only been given the facts. Anyone else who knew anything about her was either dead, or high enough in the chain of command to read her file. Her past had been compressed into a list of events that had no meaning. Orphan, Earthborn, Butcher, Spectre and Hero. What did it matter how things had unfolded into the present?

"Wasn't there anyone to protect you from the cruelties of the world around you?"

Kelly's voice was mournful and Shepard grimaced under the burden of her pity.

"No," she said shortly.

Garrus, ever attuned to the Commander's needs, called for Rupert to bring another round of drinks. Shepard glanced at him, a grateful smile pulling at her cheeks.

Kelly seemed to sense that the subject was closed, and turned toward Thane on her other side. Shepard often found it curious that Cerberus could employ someone who seemed so fascinated by the other races of the galaxy. She had always assumed that anyone who worked for Cerberus would be as prejudiced as the organization they served.

Garrus was leaning in close to speak into her ear, and Shepard felt herself blushing again as the distance between them disappeared.

"I'm sorry, Shepard. I didn't mean to ambush you with the entire crew," he said, his voice tinged with good humor.

Shepard did her best to hide her sudden discomfort. She had never felt uncomfortable around the turian before, and the flutter in her chest at the sound of his voice was frustratingly enigmatic. She didn't understand why her face kept changing colors whenever he came near her.

"A little forewarning would have been nice," she grumbled, crossing her bare arms over her chest. Despite her disgruntlement, she returned his smile easily.

He rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish.

"To be honest, Joker didn't give me much to go on when he asked me to invite you."

"Joker asked you to invite me?"

"Yeah," he shrugged uncertainly, "I got the feeling he expected you to refuse if anyone but me had asked."

"Good instincts," she said darkly.

"Don't tell me you're going to let a crowd make you nervous," he joked.

"I've never been very good at socializing," she grimaced, and finished her second drink.

She surprised herself, in the end. After her first two drinks, the casual conversing became easier. She was content to listen while the others recounted their various missions so far, each of them adding a colorful layer of perspective to events. The crew and her myriad of squad mates seemed enthusiastic to obtain her view of each story, as if hers was a piece that had been missing with each retelling. Eventually she relaxed enough to laugh openly at their jokes, and take part in the friendly ribbing that passed for camaraderie on the Normandy. Grunt challenged Jacob to a re-match, and when the Cerberus operative declined, Shepard quickly took up the bet. She won, which caused Garrus to break out a turian victory dance as he collected credits from the losing bettors. Surprisingly few of the crew members had believed she could beat a krogan with her bare hands.

For the most part, she hung back. She observed the way Samara, Kelly and Thane kept to themselves in quiet, intense conversation. Zaeed had appeared, seemingly out of no where, and was sipping a drink in silence beside Jack. The two of them had an ease about them that made Shepard believe they had found a mutual friendship in one another. Their companionable silence reminded her of her friendship with Garrus, and that heat returned unbidden to her cheeks.

Tali and the two Cerberus engineers were engaged in a heated, but friendly, debate that could easily be heard over the raucous drinking game that was unfolding at the smaller table. Shepard couldn't tell what the rules were, but it required a deck of cards. All she really knew was that the players, including Joker, were happily intoxicated.

Kasumi appeared as mysteriously as Zaeed, and managed to corner Jacob in the kitchen. Shepard wasn't sure what the conversation was, but Kasumi seemed tipsy and Jacob seemed nervous. She smiled when she realized that the master thief reminded her of Liara, back when the asari had been more open about her affections toward the Commander. Thinking of the newly instated Shadow Broker made her heart sink with loneliness, and Shepard tilted her head back to finish the rest of her third drink.

She realized, then, that everyone else was suitably occupied. She was alone. It had been an hour or two since she first arrived, and several people had wandered off toward their racks. Mordin and Dr. Chawkwas had long since disappeared into the med bay together. She imagined they were deep in conversation, discussing biological theory or some such. Miranda, always loyal to the regulations, left in a huff when Shepard indulged the crew by arm wrestling the krogan.

The alcohol in her system was enough to make the room tilt a little dizzily. Maybe now it would be safe for her to sneak off, unnoticed.

She had just pressed the button to call the elevator when he caught her.

"Did you really think you could slip by me that easily?"

Garrus leaned against the bulkhead, his arms crossed haughtily over his chest. He was smiling at her, at least she thought he was. In her current condition, she wasn't really sure.

"Don't you have something to calibrate?" she said a little viciously.

Garrus straightened, surprise clearly visible in his eyes.

"Shepard, if I did something-," he began.

"No. You didn't do anything," she said suddenly. She didn't want to do this. Not now.

Garrus wasn't deterred. He closed the distance between them and hesitated, before putting a hand on her arm. She was loathe to admit it, but she was grateful for the added support. The deck was rolling, as if their's was a ship at sea, instead of a spaceship carving a straight path through the void.

"Look, Shepard-," he paused, his eyes troubled. "I know I haven't really been...accessible lately. All of this must be difficult for you, and I _want _to be there for you. I do. I've just had...a lot on my mind."

She knew he was thinking of Sidonis and the death of his squad. She couldn't imagine the pain of losing her entire crew. Losing Ashley on Virmire had been hard enough. If anyone among them were ever revealed to be a traitor, she knew she would search the galaxy until she had their head mounted on her wall.

"I know," she said softly. She pulled her arm out of his grasp a little too quickly. The blush was creeping back into her face, camouflaged by the red flush of liquor that already colored her cheeks. How did he keep _doing _that?

"I..." he hesitated, and then snapped his mouth closed. He was staring at her intently, and she made a point to keep her focus on the elevator door. Why wasn't the damn thing here already?

He seemed to come to some decision, and she found herself forcibly turned around to face him. He put both of his heavy hands on her shoulders.

"I'm sorry," he said firmly.

Shepard raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"Garrus, you don't owe me an apology. I understand," she said. She was itching to get out of this situation and he could see it.

Since waking up in that Cerberus station, she often found herself wondering if she had died after all, and this mangled nightmare was nothing but a private circle of Hell for her torment. Before the attack on the SR1 and her subsequent death, she had had a crew full of people she trusted and cared about. She had people she could depend on. The world made sense.

Now, even the people she thought she knew had become strangers. Everyone kept telling her 'two years' and she wasn't sure what that really meant. Everything she had known and loved had been taken away or twisted. The Illusive Man played games that kept her guessing and everything at her disposal was provided by an organization she had learned to hate. All of her official ties had publicly disowned her, and all of her friends had disappeared or changed completely.

She didn't know who to trust and she didn't know what to believe.

Finding Garrus on Omega had filled her with so much relief, she had almost cried. It said something about the depth of her military bearing that she hadn't; not even when he was gasping wetly for air in a puddle of his own blood. She remembered the sound he had made as he choked on his own fluids, and shivered.

"Yes I do," he was saying. "It's my job to watch your back and I haven't been."

"We're all a little distracted," she said gently. "I know you've always got my six."

He shook his head.

_Stubborn bastard, _she thought.

"It's more than that. I'm your friend, Shepard. You should be able to talk to me if something is on your mind."

The elevator opened, and she took the opportunity to extricate herself from his grip and step inside.

"Of course," she said lightly. "That's what friends do."

"Shepard," he growled, frustration beginning to lower the tone of his voice. To her chagrin, he followed her onto the elevator and the door shut behind him. She was trapped.

"Why are you pushing me away?" he said stubbornly.

"I'm not, Garrus," she replied tiredly, rubbing the back of her hand against her forehead. Having him so close to her was making the air thick. The elevator was suddenly too small and she felt dizzy. When he hit the stop button, she nearly doubled over with dread.

"Bullshit," he said firmly.

She stared at him for a moment, surprised by the curse.

"Garrus, what do you want me to say?"

Her voice was tinged with desperation and she hated him for it. Why couldn't he just let her get away from this?

The question seemed to give him pause.

"I'm not really sure," he said honestly. "But I can tell that you're upset with me."

His voice was soft and wounded and Shepard felt her anger fading. She could see the sadness in his eyes and she realized that he was genuinely distressed.

She sighed, dragging her hand through her hair. It was so much shorter now. Miranda had explained that they kept it short while she was unconscious because it was more convenient. Feeling the blunt ends as they slid through her fingers only reminded her of how much things had changed, and her stomach twisted.

"I'm not...," she had to take a deep breath. Some emotion was pushing it's way up her throat and threatening to choke her on her words. "I _can't _be upset with you," she said, finally.

He only watched her patiently, confused.

"After what you've been through, I can't expect anything from you," she said softly. "No matter how much I might need it. It's my job to be strong."

Garrus was silent for a moment, considering her words. She didn't dare meet his eyes. These conversations had never been easy for her. Shepard was always willing to offer her shoulder to those who needed it- whether they needed something to lean on, or something to be hit with. But she wasn't so great at handling the situations where the tables were turned. It made her feel exposed, and her skin itched with discomfort.

Finally, the turian stepped toward her, bringing them barely centimeters apart. He took both her hands in his. Shepard felt her heart thundering in her chest. Her hands felt tiny compared to his and she could feel the strength in each of his digits. He was so close she could smell him. He smelled like gunfire and spices and something masculine that made her head spin.

They had never been this...intimate. On the original Normandy, Garrus had always seemed enthusiastic, even idealistic,- but professional. Their after hours conversations had always been a bit brief. If she traced the timeline of their friendship, she was forced to realize that most of their bonding had taken place on the battlefield. The turian's skill set uniquely complimented her own, and she had started bringing him with her on nearly every mission. He was always at her right hand, ready to press a heat sink into her palm before she even realized she was out. His humor in the face of life's ugly realities kept her spirits up, and his steadfast faith in her kept her strong.

But off the battlefield they had sometimes struggled with the dynamics of their friendship. Humans and turians were not expected to be friends, and they had spent a long time dancing around their affinity for each other. Neither one of them wanted to presume too much or become too familiar. It wasn't until she had found him on Omega that the barrier erected by the shared past of their species had finally crumbled. She was just so _grateful _to find a friendly face amidst all the broken chaos of her resurrected life. She suspected he felt the same.

She had sought him out, time and again, only to be bluntly turned away. She needed him so badly, and the needing grated on her soul. Despite the excuses she had made in his defense, she eventually stopped making the trek down to the Main Battery just to see him. Yeoman Chambers had been the one to tell her when Garrus found some lead on the turian Judas that haunted him. Shepard hadn't talked to him about it. Not yet.

"Not with me," he said softly. "You don't have to be strong with me."

Shepard swallowed, hard.

When she looked up to meet his eyes, she found them filled with some emotion she did not recognize. Or did not want to recognize.

"Okay," she said, surrendering. She leaned forward until her forehead was resting against his breastplate, her eyes falling closed. "But right now, I'm very tired."

She heard him chuckle. The vibration of his voice carried through his armor, and made her head hum.

"Fair enough, Commander. But promise me one thing."

She raised her head to look at him, squinting around her exhaustion.

"Anything," she said, her voice beginning to slur with sleep and liquor.

"You'll tell me, from now on, if you need me?"

She observed the kindness in his face; the open, obvious trust he had in her. In that moment, she realized that she loved everything about him.

"On one condition," she murmured in reply.

"Anything," he said, reverently.

"Let me lean on you until we get to my cabin because I am _drunk."_

Her head thumped audibly onto his chest and he laughed so hard, she could feel his shoulders shaking.

"I think I can do that," he murmured.

He let go of her hands and wrapped an arm around her shoulders instead. She leaned against him gratefully. Her exhaustion and the alcohol were quickly catching up to her. The edges of the world were beginning to blur. She hardly noticed when he pressed the button and got the elevator moving again.

Their silence was comfortable. The elevator hummed softly around them. Shepard imagined she could feel him grip her a little tighter, just before the door rolled open again. She wouldn't let him help her to her door, but he followed after her anyways.

"Shepard," he said, before she could retreat into the safety of her cabin.

"Hm?"

"Could you...come see me, tomorrow? There's something that I should've- that I need to talk to you about."

For a moment, she only regarded him shrewdly. If she could have seen her own face, she would have compared her expression to the one the nuns at the orphanage used to give her when they caught her in a lie. She already knew what he wanted to talk to her about.

"Judas," she said fuzzily.

"What?"

"Never mind. Yeah, I can stop by the Main Battery tomorrow."

He seemed genuinely happy to hear her say it. It made her smile to see him happy. He had been miserable for so long.

He had already bid her good night and stepped back into the elevator when something occurred to her.

"Garrus," she said sharply.

He held his hand in the elevator door to keep it from closing.

"Yes, Shepard?"

"If you say anything to me about 'Calibrations', _ever again_, I will beat you to death with your own rifle," she said. "Are we clear?"

"Crystal, Commander."

As the elevator closed, she felt for sure that the turian was grinning at her.


	3. Cost

**Author's Note: **A little about my Shepard's past here. I'll try to fill in the blanks as I go. This takes place after the derelict collector ship trap and a few loyalty missions. Definitely sequenced after the last chapter.

While the crew was still reeling through the shockwaves of The Illusive Man's manipulative deceit regarding the derelict Collector Ship, Shepard remained steadfast with fury. Most of her anger stemmed from the fact that she understood his reasons- maybe even agreed with them. But she knew that, had it been an Alliance operation, she would not have been going in so blind. Betrayal was something she was familiar with, and it was a button she did not like having pushed. Friends that had known her long enough often remarked that the worst thing you could do to Commander Shepard...was lie.

In the rare instances where misconduct was discovered among the peripheral crew members, she usually let them figure it out. No one on the crew wanted to distract from the importance of the mission. Occasionally, tensions ran high and Shepard would intervene. Chambers had once noted that she needn't deal with petty disagreements- there were other officers with the rank to settle a dispute. But Shepard was curious by nature, and she found that people would reveal a lot about themselves in a moment of tension.

The crew had quickly realized that, so long as you were honest, Shepard's judgement was fair. Those who told the absolute truth and accepted responsibility for their actions, usually left with their dignity intact.

The ones who lied, always ended up telling the truth.

Jack hadn't tried to lie to the Commander. Not yet.

As soon as she saw her, Jack knew that Commander Shepard wasn't like anyone else. It wasn't the practiced way she handled her rifle or the heavy brush of her biotics as she stepped out of the firefight. There was no doubt that Shepard was a devastating biotic. Were they ever to come to blows, the destruction would be brutal.

But she was still stronger.

No, it had been something in the Commander's eyes that gave her pause. Jack had a poetic soul- something she would never admit out loud. It sounded weak. She was a bad bitch: weakness wasn't in her job description. But her bravado didn't stop her from thinking that Shepard looked like the living avatar of William Ernest Henley's "Invictus":

_I am the master of my fate:_

_I am the captain of my soul_

The fact that Shepard had convinced her to work with Cerberus at all, said a lot about the power of her presence.

Now, the Commander was making her go to this shit meeting.

The entire crew was amassed in the Mess Hall. It was the only space large enough to accommodate every person on the ship. Even that tube-baby krogan was lurking in a corner, looking uncomfortable surrounded by so many soft, squishy bodies. The Commander stood at the top of the stairs leading to the Main Battery. The two Cerberus operatives, the cheerleader and that ridiculous jock-type, stood on either side of the short ladder that led to Shepard. Jack took their guard-like positions as a challenge, and clamored onto the yellow storage crates behind them with her back against the med-bay wall.

The cheerleader glared over her shoulder and Jack grinned with an obscene gesture. If Shepard wanted her off the crates, she would tell her so. Shepard didn't even seem to see her, and the smile widened. Feeling immensely satisfied by the cheerleader's vexation, Jack settled in to watch the rest of the Cerberus idiots trickle in.

Zaeed sauntered into the mess, cool as a cucumber, and leaned against the railing in front of her. Jack kicked him in the shoulder in greeting, and he flipped her off without turning around. She smiled.

When EDI politely notified the Commander that everyone was present, things went quiet without any prompting from Shepard. Everyone wanted to hear why they were there and Shepard wouldn't speak until it was silent.

"I know this is unusual," she said calmly. "The comm system works just fine, but I wanted to say this to all of you in person."

A stir went around the room. Whatever Shepard felt was important enough to drag them all away from their posts for, must be big. Nothing was ever mundane where the Commander was involved.

"The Illusive Man betrayed all of us today," she said steadily, confirming the rumor that had been floating through the ranks all day. A grumble of dissent began to rise, but Shepard calmed them by lifting her hand, ever so slightly.

"He had his reasons," she continued neutrally. "But I hope this reminds all of you how far he's willing to go to achieve his goals. Up until now, it's been beneficial to us. But The Illusive Man has shown that he doesn't care about the cost. _I care._"

Jack didn't bother to hide her irritation at being forced to attend this group therapy session. She already knew that Cerberus and The Illusive Man were unscrupulous bastards who were willing to make the easy sacrifices just to get what they wanted. She knew too well. When she scoffed at the idea that TIM had a reason for sending them all into a trap, she made sure she did it loud enough that Miranda would hear.

Shepard's eyes were roaming the crowd, her arms crossed over her chest. Somehow she managed to look threatening in her Cerberus officer uniform, without a single weapon in hand. Jack was pretty sure that Shepard hated wearing that uniform, and it baffled her why she still did.

"This ship is my home, and all of your lives are _my _responsibility- not his. As far as I'm concerned, this crew is not expendable. The Illusive Man has his own agenda, but mine is to keep all of you alive and show the Reapers what happens when they kidnap our families. From now on, we're going to be a lot more careful."

A certain fire had crept into her voice that tickled Jack's interest. She followed the Commander's gaze to the back of the room, where the turian was leaning against the bulkhead. She couldn't read his face from that far away, but she had a feeling that he was staring right back into Shepard's eyes. It only lasted a second, but the look that passed between Garrus and the Commander had been intense. Jack shivered, caught in between.

"I need all of you at your best and I know that things have been difficult since this mission started. That being said, we'll be stopping for some shore leave and supplies in just under 48 Earth-standard hours. I want everyone to take some time off the ship. Get some rest, have some fun, stay out of trouble and be ready for duty when I say it's time to ship off. Understood?"

A cheer of agreement went up from the crew. Shepard dismissed them and the crowd shattered into pieces as people went their separate ways.

"Jack."

She was startled by the sound of Shepard's voice in her ear. She had been watching the crew as they departed, and Zaeed was gesturing that she should meet him for a cigarette in ten. Irritated by the rush of adrenaline, she glanced over her shoulder and found the older woman crouched down on the platform above her.

"What?" she asked, defensive. When authority figures wanted to talk to her, she was usually in some kind of trouble. It was just a matter of figuring out what kind.

"I want you in the airlock as soon as we dock at Omega," the Commander said.

Jack frowned.

"Great, whose errands are we running now?"

Shepard smiled a little ruefully.

"Technically, Samara's. But that's something her and I will handle. First, I need to blow off some steam and I want you to come with me."

Jack felt her mind do a back flip as she struggled to process the implications of that sentence.

"Shepard I'm flattered, but it's been a long time since I swung for that team," she said sarcastically.

Shepard rolled her eyes.

"I plan on getting shit-faced, not getting laid," she said with a dry smirk.

Shepard was acting sheepish as she said it, and Jack tracked her eyes as they flicked toward the back of the room again. Garrus was gone, but Jack felt certain that it was his face Shepard's eyes were seeking.

"So why do I get to come?" Jack asked.

It wasn't like she didn't look forward to seeing the sterling Commander Shepard get cocked, but she was suspicious. Her and Shepard had had a few conversations since Pragia, and the Spectre hadn't bothered to hide the fact that she didn't condone Jack's criminal escapades. Jack always figured that they just wouldn't get along outside of the mission. She was baffled as to why the Commander was seeking her company now.

"If you were me, who would _you _bring?" Shepard said, raising an eyebrow.

Jack thought about it.

"Yeah, all right. You want to get fucked up without a lecture to go with your hangover. I get it. But you're not going to wear _that, _are you?"

She indicated the Commander's black and gray Cerberus uniform with a grimace. Shepard glanced down at herself and frowned.

"I don't really have any other clothes," she said, uncertain.

"Yeah well, you should consider getting some."

"I'd ask you, but I don't usually wear belts for shirts," Shepard teased.

"Screw you, I make that shit look fabulous."

She jumped off the yellow crate and stretched languidly. Shepard stood, her arms crossed over her chest again. Sometimes, Jack reflected, the Commander seemed really tense. If her and the turian were in some kind of weird relationship, she hoped they got to screwing soon. Shepard clearly needed to get laid.

"Just be ready when we dock- the only way I'm getting away with this is if we slip out while everyone else is still getting their shore legs."

"Yeah, yeah," Jack said, waving her hand dismissively behind her as she left. "I'll be there. Hope you're really ready to let loose, Shepard: I play hard."

As she strode toward the elevator, Jack was smiling.

"And don't tell anyone!" Shepard called after her.

The elevator cocooned her in silence, and Jack burst out laughing. For the first time in a long time, Subject Zero realized she was excited. Whether Shepard got drunk and made a fool of herself, or they got themselves into trouble somewhere on Omega, this was going to be fun.

Boy, did she have a lot to tell Zaeed when she met him in the shuttle bay.

XXX

"I don't like it."

"What? Why?"

Jack stared at her companion, completely baffled by his lack of enthusiasm. Zaeed contemplated the burning end of his cigarette as he exhaled, surrounding them both in a cloud of smoke.

"Shepard's too important to be getting cocked on some lawless rock a stone's throw away from the Omega-4 relay," he growled.

"Are you kidding? That's exactly where she should be getting shit-faced. Besides, who are you to say she can't blow off some steam now and then?"

Zaeed was either shooting at things or he was drunk, and his disapproval frustrated her. Finding a friend on this stupid ship wasn't something she had planned on, but the mercenary's rough attitude was familiar. Almost comforting. Zaeed would usually tell her the truth, even if it hurt. Especially if it hurt.

She had expected him to be delighted by the idea of a drunk Shepard wandering Omega with Jack at her side. She planned on video taping the entire thing on her Omni-tool. Certainly she would want to experience it again later, and there were definitely people out there who would pay for a copy.

"I'm not her," he said firmly. His mismatched eyes met hers, frowning. "Don't you get it? We're on a goddamn suicide mission- not some routine bully and play."

Sometimes the old man's slang went over her head, and Jack didn't bother to hide the lack of comprehension on her face. Zaeed pushed off the bulkhead he'd been leaning on, sighing.

"If Shepard screws this up, we all die," he said darkly.

"Yeah but-"

"What happens when you two get into trouble you're too drunk to get out of? What happens when Shepard turns up dead in a back alley? Cerberus brought her back once, do you really think they have the resources to pull that shit again? And who do you think would be able to step up and fill her shoes, eh? Without her, this goddamn house of cards comes crashing down."

"Fine, I won't let her die, then," Jack grumbled. She settled deeper into her perch on top of another storage crate, safely out of reach. She liked being able to see the whole room from up here.

"You're damn right you won't," he replied. "And if you're smart, you won't let anyone find out about it either. You were dumb enough coming down here and telling me."

Jack bristled.

"Screw you! I'm gonna record that shit and make millions off the vids. I would've cut you in but now you've pissed me off."

"Yeah, yeah," Zaeed said without concern. "But maybe when you're done acting tough, you'll start using your godddamn brain for half a second."

Jack glared at him and opened her mouth to retort, but he cut her off.

"Shepard's done a lot for you. She didn't have to take you out there and help you blow up that shit facility. Are you sure that humiliating her is the way you want to pay her back?"

She stared into his uneven gaze for a moment, frowning, and let the protest die in her throat. She hated admitting she was wrong, and she wasn't about to say it out loud, but Zaeed was right. Smearing the Commander's reputation would be a low blow, even for her. Besides, there was a part of her, a very small part, that kind of liked Shepard.

"Fine," she said. "But I'm going to have fun."

"Do what you want," Zaeed said dismissively, "but keep your eyes open."

Oh she would. Jack didn't want to miss a single second of Shepard's drunken foray into the galaxy's underworld.

XXX

"Where... did you get that?"

Jack stared at Shepard, her eyes lingering over the Commander's muscled curves a little too long. She hadn't lied when she said she didn't bat for the other team, not usually, but Shepard's body in that dress was hard to ignore. Most casual female outfits these days were fairly form-fitting and rarely left much to the imagination, but Jack had never expected the Commander to wear anything with so many...cut outs.

"Chambers," Shepard said through her teeth.

Jack could tell by the flush in her cheeks that the Spectre was more than ready to get off the Normandy before they were seen. She hadn't seen her blush this much since that weird little thief took her to that party on Bekenstein. The dress Shepard wore for that occasion had been a bit classier, but Jack had no doubt that the Commander felt uncomfortable in anything that required high heels.

"I thought you said you weren't trying to get laid?" she said, smirking.

Shepard glared petulantly at her.

"I'm not. But it was either this, or one of Miranda's ridiculous spandex jumpsuits."

"I don't think you have the tits to fill out any of her outfits."

"More than you," Shepard countered evenly. Surprised, Jack shared a smile with the Commander as they stepped out of the airlock and into the foggy miasma that passed for atmosphere on Omega.

"So where are we headed, Commander?"

"The lowest circle of Hell we can possibly find," Shepard grumbled in reply. "And just call me Shepard for the rest of the night, please."

"If you're trying to lay low, 'Shepard' isn't exactly incognito," Jack retorted.

They stepped through the main doors into Omega, where they could hear the bass from Afterlife beating like the pulse of a mighty heart. Jack felt her spirits lifting with anticipation. The steady thrum of club music always made her feel at home. It was the theme song of darkness; the seductive siren call of bad men and women looking to do bad things. To her left, she could see Shepard calculating as she scanned every exit, every face that passed by. Whether she really wanted to let loose or not, the Commander couldn't just put aside the survival instincts that had been ingrained in her by her dangerous lifestyle.

"Lots of other people are named Shepard", she said absently.

Together they climbed the steps to Afterlife, the orange light of the synthetic flames up above highlighting them both in a macabre of shadows. Shepard breezed past the bouncer and the line of anxious patrons in front of him with hardly a glance. The batarian didn't bother to stop them. Jack suspected that some exchange had been made with Aria that allowed the Commander free roam throughout Omega, though it was unlikely that she could go anywhere without Aria knowing about it. Jack felt a sliver of comfort. She didn't like the idea of being under surveillance by anybody, let alone a bitch of an asari, but if anything happened to them, there was at least one person who wouldn't want a mess to cover up later.

"There are also lots of people here who can put two and two together. You may look a hell of a lot different in that dress, but anyone with some sense will know your face and your name," Jack countered.

"Fine," Shepard sighed, "what would you suggest?"

She stopped, turning to face her companion with her hands on her hips. Jack crossed her arms, one eyebrow raised.

"Don't you have a first name?"

Something in Shepard's face soured, her eyebrows drawing down low over her eyes. Despite her usual indifference toward other people, Jack found herself intrigued.

"Forget it," the Commander snapped. She turned heel and strode through the doors into the thunderous cover of music that spilled out to meet them. Jack hesitated before following.

Shepard was pushing her way through the crowd to the door in the back. Jack realized she was headed for the lowest floor of Afterlife, where the people suffering on their last credits went to spend the remaining dregs of their cash on booze and blissful ignorance. She struggled to keep up with the Commander's long strides. People parted like the Red Sea at the sight of her and closed again in her wake, leaving Jack to shoulder her way through the aftermath. Even without her armor, Shepard was someone you made a wide berth for.

In the deep red lights of the anterior hallway, Jack finally caught up.

"What's the big deal?" she said irritably. "Do you really want me to come up with a name myself? How about Martha?"

Shepard glared at her, but didn't stop to retort.

"Cherry- no wait, _Candy_," Jack teased.

"Jack," Shepard said sternly.

"No, Jack is _my _name. I know, how about Britney? Chastity? You did say you didn't want to get laid."

"Jack, drop it!" Shepard snapped.

She was standing three steps below the biotic, her fists clenched. Jack wasn't sure how, but she managed to look imposing, even in that dress. If she had been a little interested before, she was positively wild with curiosity now. Shepard was always the picture of tact and military bearing. Ruffling her feathers wasn't impossible, but definitely difficult. As much as she enjoyed pushing Shepard's buttons, she found herself genuinely wondering what it was about her first name that made the Commander so defensive.

"Come on, Shepard I've told you a lot of shit about me. You can't even tell me your first name?"

The Commander hesitated. Her eyes, usually a clear, penetrating gray in the daylight, looked black and troubled in the dark crimson hallway. She searched Jack's face for a long moment and the convict did her best to meet her penetrating gaze without flinching.

After a decidedly long silence, she said, "It's Col."

Jack's first instinct was confusion.

"Col? Where the hell did you get a name like that?"

"You asked for my name, I told you. If you call me that tonight, I'll answer to it, but never again after this- understood?"

"Jeez, fucking relax will you? Come on," she grabbed the Commander by the bicep and dragged her the rest of the way down the steps, "you need a drink."

XXX

Jack wasn't sure if being a conniving bitch was something that came naturally to her, or a survival skill she had been forced to learn. However it had happened, over time she had become downright manipulative when the situation required it. In this case, she deeply anticipated getting the Commander shit faced and exposing whatever secret had been lurking behind her eyes as she confessed her first name.

It took a few more shots than she was expecting. Shepard could drink a krogan under the table if she tried and Jack passed more than a few drinks to a grateful turian bum beside them just to stay sharp. There would be no point in grilling the Commander about her name if she was too drunk to remember the answers the next morning. Normally, she only cared this much about other people's secrets if she planned on blackmailing them later. While she could imagine a hundred scenarios where having Commander Shepard on blackmail would be useful, that wasn't what motivated her now. Zaeed was right- Shepard had done more for her than most people ever had. It was a debt she wasn't likely to repay anytime soon. But she was curious. Besides, Jack liked going where she wasn't supposed to go. The more Shepard dodged her questions, the more intrigued she became.

She wasn't even sure the Commander was getting drunk until finally she slurred in Jack's ear, "I wanna dance."

Jack was only too happy to drag the other woman by the hand toward the raised dance floors that surrounded the room. Bodies pressed in around them, holding them up when gravity threatened to drag them down and pushing them from side to side with the beat. Jack was amused to learn that Shepard couldn't dance. She could follow the beat well enough, but she lacked the grace and lithe sensuality of the exotic asari dancers swinging from poles above the bar.

Shepard took a moment to settle into the amoebic embrace of the dance floor, seemingly uncomfortable under the pressure of so much bare, sweating skin. She bounced from side to side, letting the music tease her motions with inspiration. After a minute, the convict saw Shepard's eyes slide closed and her movements changed. Jack couldn't tell if the Commander was dancing or fighting. There was a certain aggression behind her motions; a bubbling rage that made her gestures ferocious. Whatever it was the Commander was trying to exorcise, it was coming out now.

The floor was getting more crowded as a popular song poured over their drunken heads. Jack stepped closer and grabbed the Commander around the waist, lest she lose track of her entirely. She could feel the hot flush of Shepard's bare hip under her palm and realized, suddenly, that the Spectre might not take well to being grabbed so intimately without warning.

Shepard, however, was lost in whatever world she had retreated to. She let Jack dance with her, hardly pausing to open her eyes. At this point, she wasn't even sure Shepard was aware of who she was dancing with. She glared over the Commander's shoulder at a dirty looking man who was eyeing their motions with appreciation. No one was cutting in on this party tonight, not if she could help it. It wasn't like she wanted Shepard to herself, but Zaeed's warning was still ringing in her head.

"_Keep your eyes open." _

Shepard could dance with her eyes closed if she needed to, but Jack wasn't about to let anything happen to her while she was still sober enough to do something about it. There was something enticingly vulnerable about the Commander in that moment. Jack had never seen her so unguarded. Shepard was always prepared, always braced for the next wave of shit to roll downhill. When she thought of Shepard, she thought of straight, rigid shoulders supporting the weight of impossible expectations. Seeing her like this, with her hair sticking to her cheeks, eyes closed, jumping and swaying loosely to a beat that made her lungs throb with sound, it was like witnessing the emergence of a whole other person. There was a slight smile pulling at her lips, parted and gasping for breath, and Jack felt a flicker of something warm.

It was good to see her so...happy.

By the time Shepard let Jack lead her back to an empty booth to rest, they were both sweating with exertion. They probably could have lasted hours out on the dance floor but Jack hadn't given up on her ulterior motive. The Commander was drunk, tired, and riding high on a flood of endorphins that had her grinning like an idiot as Jack guided her by the hand toward a dark, private corner of the club. The fact that Shepard was allowing herself to be happily led anywhere was enough evidence for Jack to believe that her plan was working.

"So _Col, _are you having fun yet?"

Shepard attempted to brush her hair out of her face but only succeeded in making it more of a mess. A few pieces clung to her forehead. She frowned petulantly, like a little girl.

"I hate that name," she grumbled. "Do you have to call me that?"

"Why do you hate it so much? Not girly enough for you?" Jack teased.

"A bum gave it to me," she said sleepily. Jack kicked her under the table.

"Wake up asshole, don't tell me you're done already. I told you I play hard."

"Hard? You ar'nt even drunk yet," the Commander squinted at her with sloppy suspicion.

Jack shrugged evasively.

"Yeah well, someone has to keep an eye on you," she grumbled.

"Why Jacqueline, how very responsible 'f you," Shepard grinned.

"Fuck you, don't call me that," she snapped.

"Aha see- it's no fun when the tables are turned, s'it?"

Jack fumed under the Commander's smug smile. It wasn't that she disliked her given name. In her mind, Jacqueline was someone sweet, someone happy, someone who was loved. It was a pretty name, meant for a pretty girl. Whoever that girl was, Jack wasn't her. All 'Jacqueline' ever did was remind her of the way things could have been.

Shepard seemed to sense her companion's anger and leaned forward conspiratorially.

"Tell you what," she said, "you get us s'more drinks and I'll tell you why I hate my name."

Jack gave her a doubtful look but got up and made her way to the bar without further protest. She wasn't even sure she cared what the story was anymore. The point was to get Shepard drunk enough to pry the answer out of her. Now, it seemed that the Commander had been on to her all along.

The salarian bartender that poured her drinks was overly friendly, but she hardly noticed him as she stared thoughtfully at Shepard in the distance. The Spectre was fiddling with something that Jack couldn't see, something that had disappeared by the time she made it back to the booth. She placed their drinks on the table and flopped back into her seat.

"There. So what's the story?"

"First let me ask you something," Shepard said thoughtfully.

"Nope, that wasn't part of the deal," Jack replied stubbornly.

"Fine," the Commander sighed. "I don't hate my name, but it's just... not me."

"Bull shit," Jack said sharply. "I hate 'Jacqueline' because it's not who I fucking am but I don't hide it from people."

"May as well," the other woman said, frowning, "you don't exactly give it out either. Besides, 'Jack' is shorthand for Jacqueline so you couldn't hide it even if you wanted to."

"None of which explains why you didn't want to tell me your first name."

Shepard drained her glass instead of answering. For a moment, she stared down at the empty bottom as if the words she was searching for would be there for her to recite. Finally she said,

"Like I said, it was given to me by a bum. I'm pretty sure it's not even a name- jus' something they called me."

"I don't follow," Jack said bluntly.

Shepard sighed and irritably pushed the rest of her hair out of her face.

"I was an orphan. I don't know where I was born or who my parents were or why they left me in an air duct one night when I was maybe three weeks old. Even my birthday is just a best guess," she said bitterly. "When the bum who found me brought me to the orphanage he kept saying 'She col', she col'. It stuck so that s'what the nuns called me."

Jack kept her silence when Shepard paused. She could tell the Commander wasn't finished. She was searching for the words again, her mind drifting somewhere into an ugly past. Shepard suddenly gave a short laugh, more like a sharp exhale than actual laughter, and shook her head.

"I think he was trying to tell them I was _cold_. It was April in Northeastern America, of course it was fucking cold. But they couldn't come up with anything better? Sure, why the fuck not."

Jack considered the Commander's story. There was a lot of information there, a lot of things that had gone unsaid. She had never spent much time on Earth- too much red tape, too many eyes watching, but she had heard that the place was a little bi-polar. The rich were usually filthy rich and the poor...well. Although Earth had entered into a new Golden Age thanks to humanity's relative success in the galaxy beyond the Sol System, there were still places that suffered from extreme poverty and violence. If Shepard had been an orphan, she doubted the Commander had lived in the lap of luxury. Most Earth orphans became mercenaries, hookers, drug dealers or slavers. Jack knew- she had met most of them.

"So where does 'Shepard' come from? Was that the bum's idea too?"

She was a little relieved when the Commander smiled ruefully at her gesture of humor.

"No, I earned that one," she said softly.

Jack raised an eyebrow, confused.

"How do you _earn _a last name?"

"People have always been willing to follow me," Shepard replied, her eyes drifting inward. "Even as a kid, I always had a small army trailing behind me. The nuns started calling me their 'little shepherd' and the other kids just started calling me Shepard. When I ran away, I took half the orphanage with me," she said, smiling.

Jack laughed.

"You ran away from a bunch of nuns? How old were you?"

"Ten," Shepard said shortly, "but that's a story for another time."

Jack watched the Commander thoughtfully as the older woman excused herself to order another drink at the bar. In her absence, Subject Zero stared into the murky darkness of her full glass. She didn't know anything about the Commander, not really. She had done a few extranet searches after joining the Normandy crew, but the only information she had found referred to Torfan or the attack on the Citadel. Nothing before that, very little afterward. She had always assumed that the Commander had come from something...better.

Jack believed that stable, steadfast people, like Shepard, came from stable backgrounds. That's what the prison shrinks used to tell her, back when a regular prison was enough to hold her. They'd tell her that chaos was in her nature. She had been brought up in a chaotic, violent environment, therefore she would always need chaos and violence in order to feel normal. Jack had accepted this idea as fact- like a law of nature. Violence was inside of her. It couldn't be helped.

But Shepard seemed so fucking _together. _The galaxy was dropping it's bullshit on her doorstep and she came around with a broom and a positive attitude to pick it all up. She had assumed that that kind of strength could only come from someone who had known love and safety all their lives. Now, she knew otherwise.

Shepard grew up alone. Shepard knew as much about love and family as she did, which was jack shit. Yet there she was, saving the goddamn day.

When Shepard came back to the table, Jack's silence was heavy.

"Jeez that batarian asshole is a creep. I think he knew who I was. He kept giving me this weird smile and telling me enjoy my drink. Freak."

Shepard glanced at Jack when the other biotic didn't respond, and seemed to notice the expression of deep thought that darkened her face.

"What's wrong?" she asked gently.

"How do you do it?"

Shepard paused with her glass halfway to her lips.

"...Do what?"

"How do you grow up with nobody and still come out with all your shit straight?"

To Jack's surprise, Shepard spit out her first sip of whiskey, laughing.

"You say that like I came out of those fucking slums smelling like roses," she said with bitter humor. "Truth is, I still don't have my 'shit straight'."

"Like hell you don't, you're queen of the Girl Scouts," Jack replied evenly.

Shepard shook her head.

"I'm just a dog on a leash. Or a rifle. People point me in a direction and shoot," she made a gun with her hand and pretended to fire. "Truth is, Jack, I'm just as angry as you are... and just as shitty at letting people in."

Something about the sadness in her voice made Jack lean in to search her face. There was something else haunting the Commander's thoughts and it wasn't her past. Jack sensed that whatever had shadowed her voice with so much longing was also the reason she was throwing back her umpteenth drink that night.

"What do you mean 'letting people in'? Everyone on the crew loves you," she said cautiously. She wasn't sure how to ask the question she was really thinking. Shepard slammed her glass back on the table and shook her head.

"That one burned," she said, squinting. "Also the crew doesn't 'love me'," she said, making quotation marks with her fingers.

"Please," Jack scoffed. "They would do anything for you. Joker loves you- so does that doctor. Tali loves you, for sure."

"Tali admires me, there's a difference," she said.

"Garrus loves you," Jack countered.

Shepard's reaction to the statement was visceral. She visibly flinched, and her eyes skittered away, full of fear and... something else?

"Garrus d'sn't _love me_," she said bitterly. Jack noticed she was suddenly slurring a lot more than she had been a moment ago. "Garrus 's a turian, he could n'ver _love me_."

Jack had a split second to notice the tears suddenly welling in the Commander's eyes before she buried her face in her hands.

"I'm such an _idiot_," she murmured miserably.

Jack glanced around, feeling very uncomfortable. Seeing the Commander vulnerable and happy was one thing. Seeing her vulnerable and miserable was a whole other story. She wasn't really good at comforting people and she had a personal rule against crying. She suspected Shepard did too and probably wouldn't be very happy to know she had gotten emotional in front of a squad mate.

"Have you ever asked him?"

"Nope," she said, emphasizing the 'p'. "I dun have the balls."

"Bullshit," Jack said. She leaned over the table and pushed the Commander back so that she could look her in the eyes. With her hands on Shepard's shoulders she said, "If anyone has the balls to ask a turian out on a date, it's you."

For a moment, Shepard only stared at her with pale gray eyes glazed with liquor.

"You know what, I think...," she frowned very suddenly. Then, "I don't feel so-,"

Suddenly, her eyes had rolled back in her head and Shepard was falling sideways in her seat, her body wracked with unstoppable convulsions. Her knees were hitting the underside of the table, making the glasses bounce until the empty one clattered onto it's side, rolled off the edge and hit the ground in a hundred sparkling pieces. Jack held on to the Commander's arms, desperately trying to keep them from flailing and hitting her in the face. For several agonizing seconds, Jack screamed the Commander's name while the other patrons in the club danced around them in blissful or willful ignorance.

As suddenly as it had started, the seizure ended. Shepard slumped back in her seat and began to foam at the mouth.

Jack felt the grip of pure, mind-numbing panic.

She grabbed the Commander's face in both hands and urgently screamed her name. Shepard's skin was freezing cold beneath her palms and the color of her cheeks seemed to fade before her eyes. Beneath her fingertips where they pressed into Shepard's neck was an unsettling stillness.

"Please don't be dead, please don't be dead," she whispered. She checked for a pulse in earnest now, laying her index and middle finger against the place where the jugular should have been.

Nothing.

"Shit!"

Jack needed help and she needed it fast. She knew she couldn't carry Shepard all the way back to the Normandy by herself and she wasn't likely to find any charity on Omega. First, she had to get them both out of the fucking bar and call somebody- anybody, to come help her.

Shepard weighed about as much as fully grown krogan, she was sure of it. Rumor had it that Cerberus had brought her back from the dead. Maybe she really was partly cybernetic like all those numb-nuts Cerberus lackeys liked to whisper in the mess hall.

In a moment of hysteria, she had an image of The Illusive Man telling Miranda,

"_We can rebuild her, we have the technology." _

As she was dragging the unconscious, probably dead Commander into the back alley behind Afterlife, Jack was laughing.

XXX

"-hello? Hello? Is anybody there- ? Come on somebody answer."

Joker was half asleep when the transmission came in. It was nearly 0300 hours standard Alliance military time and he had been awake since 0700 the solar day before. EDI could handle simple navigation trajectories like the one they had taken to get here, but there were some things he still liked to do himself. EDI did the warfare suite and he did the piloting. That was the truce.

"mmMYeah! Hey, Jack? Is that you?"

He scrubbed the sleep out of his eyes with one hand, bringing up the comm link screens with the other. As always, his fingers flew over the controls without thought, everything about the Normandy being second nature to him.

"Yeah- Joker?"

"Hey!" he said, smiling. The ship was nearly deserted after Shepard's order to get some RXR while they were in port. Joker didn't really leave the ship much, since it was quite literally a pain and he liked being on his boat. Although EDI and her burgeoning sense of humor, while disconcerting, were usually entertaining enough during down time, he was bored out of his mind. Jack was always fun to toss around insults with.

"Where are you?" he asked, jovially. "Is the Commander with you? No one's heard from her since we docked."

"Joker shut up for a second I have a serious problem!"

The pilot was instantly awake and alert, a little taken off guard by the level of alarm he could detect in the convict's voice. He knew Jack wasn't the type to lose her head. He had seen her blow a gasket over trivial things once or twice, but rage wasn't really that uncommon for her. There was always a boiling pool of anger under her veneer of indifference. Sometimes it reminded him of the Commander.

Real fear, however, was not something he was used to hearing in her voice.

"OK, ok what's going on?"

His fingers were already dialing up other comm channels and putting them on reserve. Dr. Chakwas was first on his list of emergency contacts. He knew the medic had stepped off ship an hour ago to pick up dextro-amino medi-gel and a few other items that would be much cheaper on the black market. He once commented that she had gotten shady in her twilight years. The doctor only shrugged and dismissed his accusation by saying that terrorist money may as well be spent on criminally cheap supplies.

He had no idea where she was, but he brought up Shepard, next. If it was bad enough, the Commander would be the fastest solution to any problem.

"It's Shepard, I think she's dead!"

_Belay that, _Joker thought numbly. His fingers froze over the controls. He had no idea what to do.

"Joker!"

"OK, Ok, uhm-," he felt awful. Jack sounded nearly hysterical, like a little girl lost in the woods. "Dr. Chakwas is on Omega, I'll patch her in- see if she can get to you."

"Hurry!"

Joker already had the comm dialing. There was a brief moment of static, and the doctor's soothing british accent was answering with confusion.

"_Joker? What can I do for you?" _

"Dr. Chakwas we have an emergency. It's Shepard. I'm patching you through to Jack."

He said it so fast, he wasn't even sure she caught it all. It went against every communications protocol in the book. Break it into small parts. Speak clearly. Enunciate.

"Jack? I've got Dr. Chakwas, can you hear her?"

"_What's the problem?" _

The doctor's voice had gone clinical, as sharp and cold as the scalpels in the medbay. While Joker and Dr. Chakwas listened, Jack explained in short sentences how she and Shepard had gone to Afterlife. The Commander had more than a few drinks. She had one more and next thing Jack knew, Shepard was convulsing and foaming at the mouth. Joker felt sick to his stomach.

"_It sounds like poison,"_ Dr. Chakwas said quickly. "_I need to go back to the med bay and get an antidote kit." _

"Not fast enough!" Jack screamed. "Someone needs to come here, now! I can't carry her myself!"

At any other time, Joker might have taken the opportunity to make fun of Jack for not being able to lift the Commander. Maybe imply that Jack wasn't as tough of a biotic as he thought. Maybe insinuate that Miranda had added a few pounds when she brought the Commander back from the dead. Another time.

"Jack there's no one else here, and I sure as hell can't lift her!"

"_Garrus is still there, I believe,"_ Dr. Chakwas said helpfully. "_He didn't want to risk an incident by being seen, after the Archangel business. I could tell him what supplies to bring and meet him at your location, Jacqueline." _

There was an uninterrupted silence on Jack's end. Joker bit his lip, trying not to fill the silence, in case she came back with something to say. It was a bad habit he had always had, trying to fill the silence. He could never keep his damn mouth shut. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore.

"Jack, did you hear her? Garrus is still aboard, he can go ashore and get you."

"I heard," Jack snapped. "Fine. Just tell the big lizard to hurry."

Her comm went dark. Another window took it's place, with a blinking marker for Jack's location.

"I have already connected to Garrus in the main battery, Mr. Monreau. I have him on hold."

"Patch him through, EDI," he said wearily.

"**Joker, what the hell is going on?" **

"Garrus, we think Shepard's been poisoned. Dr. Chakwas is going to tell you what to bring and I need you to get to Jack at these coordinates."

He sent the data to the address for the turian's omni tool and patched the doctor into the conversation in the same fluid motion. It took less than ten seconds for Karin to explain to Garrus exactly what he needed to bring, but it still felt like ten seconds too long. He could hear Vakarian cursing as he tore through the med bay searching for the antidote supplies. Joker turned his chair as the thundering of turian claws came clicking down the passageway to the airlock.

"Run faster!" he yelled after him, as Garrus jogged around the corner and out of the ship.

For a typical pilot, now would be the time to sit back...and wait.

"Shall I tap their omni-tools Mr. Monreau?" EDI said, appearing beside him.

"Abso-fucking-lutely," he replied.

Well, the Normandy wasn't really your typical ship. Sometimes, he was grateful to have the superior hacking powers of an AI on his side. In a few moments, EDI had audio channels from all three crew members.

Jack was alternating between whispered threats and murmured pleading for Shepard to wake up, please fucking wake up, I will kill you for this you stupid- just wake up, please...

Garrus was panting, trailed by a stream of shouts and angry outcries as he presumably pushed people aside.

Dr. Chakwas was followed by a similar stream of curses, but each was answered with a polite, accented apology, her etiquette being much more a habit than a conscious practice. Finally,

"_Jack, I'm here,"_ the doctor said softly.

"Where's Garrus? Do you have the antidote kit?"

"_He should be arriving shortly with the supplies. Move over, let me see her- thank you. Oh my...,"_ there was a deep sigh. Joker was reminded of his mother, when he would go too far and break a limb again, again and then again. "_Shepard, what have you done now?" _

Definitely reminded him of his mother.

"**I'm here!" **

"_Garrus, thank god- give me those supplies-," _

"**What is it? What's wrong?" **

"Can you help her?"

"_Both of you calm down and step back. Wait, no I need one of you to hold her head." _

"**I'll do it."**

"_All right Garrus, hold her, right- just like that. Now, let me work."_

There were several seconds of agonizing silence. He could hear the subvocal undertones of the turian's voice, but whatever he was saying, it was too quiet to be picked up. Jack was nothing but a stream of expletives.

He tried to picture them in his mind, in an alleyway somewhere, surrounded by smog and loud music which he could hear thrumming dully in the background. Shepard lying prone on the floor, her head in Garrus's gentle claws, foam still clinging to the corners of her mouth. He could practically see Jack pacing beside them, digging her nails into her scalp and swearing.

The seconds felt like hours. Joker found himself leaning further and further forward. With one hand he dialed up the volume on the turian's omni-tool feed and with the other he filtered out the background noise until,

"**-can't have her yet, not yet. She's not done here. You hear me Shepard? You're not done yet. We still need you here. I need you. I need you, Shepard. Please-," **

Joker swallowed hard and turned the feed back down. As nosy as he was at times, listening to Vakarian's sonorous pleading was more than he would allow himself. Somehow he sensed that, that was something more intimate than just concern for a squad mate, not just for Garrus but for Shepard as well. Joker saw more than most, and he could see the way the Commander looked at the turian from time to time.

Just in time too, because a second later Garrus cried out-

"**She's breathing!" **

"_What? I haven't even applied medi-gel yet!" _

"Look!"

And suddenly there was a gasp, sputtered coughing, a groan and Joker was nearly crying with relief.

XXX

The only thing she really cared about, at first, was the headache. It was all consuming, literally mind numbing. Her eyes watered with pain as she tried to open them. Once she was able to see, if only through the thick fan of her lashes as she squinted, the rest of her body chimed in. Aches and pains hounded her from every joint, as if she were in the final throes of a horrible fever.

"What...happened...?" she murmured.

Dr. Chakwas appeared in her field of view. Hands were attempting to hold her down and she struggled stubbornly against them until they were forced to relent. Victorious, she sat up and rubbed the heels of her palms into her eyes.

"I believe you've been poisoned, Shepard," the doctor said gently. Although she sounded perfectly polite, Shepard had known Karin long enough to recognize disapproval and mothering concern in her voice.

"Poisoned."

Shepard wasn't sure if she believed that or not. On the one hand, she didn't remember anything after she had finished her last drink. On the other hand, this felt like a really bad hang over, not poison. Of course, that was a little strange on it's own. She hadn't told anyone, but Shepard suspected her metabolism was working faster than it should be. She had found, since waking up on that Cerberus station, that after three drinks she would be suitably drunk and thirty minutes later, she would be as sober as a judge.

She hadn't had a hangover in months, and not for lack of trying.

"Didja order a drink from a batarian?" an unfamiliar voice said.

Shepard squinted one-eyed at the dirty old man and his companions, hovering behind the doctor. They were onlookers, drawn toward the urgency of her friends as they no doubt fretted and fussed over her condition. She considered the man's question.

"My last drink, yeah. We'd been ordering from a salarian all night and then there was a batarian who took over," she said.

"You ordered a drink from Forvan?"

She turned around and felt her heart sink into the swirling, nauseous pits of her stomach. Garrus was looking at her with fear and pity and she felt her insides burn. Why the hell was he even there? All she could manage in reply was a slurred,

"Whos 'at?"

"Forvan," the human stranger said. "He's got a thing against humans because of a bunch of batarians who died a while ago. Whenever he serves a human, he poisons their drink. I'm surprised you're still alive," the man added, admiration in his voice.

"I knew that guy was a fucking creep!" Jack said angrily.

"Wait," she said, stumbling as she tried to stand. "That bartender tried to poison me?"

"Tried being the key word there. As far as I know, you're the first one to survive it," the man said, shaking his head. "My buddy Jake and I, went to the bar to celebrate his birthday. Next thing I know, he's puking blood."

Of course. Of course this is what happens when she takes a little time to have some fun. Was it so wrong for her to put on something that wasn't a uniform, drink herself stupid and move without purpose on a dance floor? Was it too much to ask to let her be human for once?

Of course it was, because every half hour she was sober again no matter how many shots she took. Even after the ones she ordered when Jack wasn't looking, trying to make it last, just let me forget everything for a few more minutes. There always had to be someone who wanted to _ruin her day. _

Shepard felt the pulse of her thudding rage as it took over her senses until all she could see was red. Red like the lights in the hallways of this filthy cesspool of a station, red like the dim ambience of the stupid main battery where she could never get him to just turn around and look at her the way he looked at that stupid panel, red like the ugly neon sign above the old hotel where she killed a man for the first time.

Red like the thin line of blood that shot out of an old man's helmet, years ago, when she started hating four-eyed bastards who held on to pointless grudges.

Shepard didn't hate all batarians, but she hated a lot of them.

"I think I need to go give this bartender a taste of his own medicine," she said venomously.

"Yes!"

Shepard wasn't sure, but she suspected Jack jumped for joy.

"You ought to get back to the ship, Commander," Dr. Chakwas chided. "I didn't even get a chance to apply any sort of treatment- I need to examine you."

"I'm sorry you didn't get to prod me with anything this time, Doctor, but I'm not going back to the ship right now," Shepard snapped.

The older woman looked genuinely hurt and Shepard's headache intensified with her guilt. She rubbed the back of her hand against her forehead and took a deep breath.

"Ok, I'm sorry that was uncalled for."

"You're damn right it was," Dr. Chakwas retorted.

She never let Shepard forget that no matter who gave the orders on the Normandy, it was Karin who saved your life at the end of a bad mission. She would never allow anyone die on her table if she could help it, but you should always mind the woman who controlled the pain relievers. She wasn't _required _to use them when you needed stitches.

"Shepard, let me handle Forvan," Garrus interjected. "You should go back to the ship and rest. I know the guy- I was going to take him out with my team when I was...well. I'm sorry. If I'd known you were going out I would have warned you."

Shepard closed her eyes and counted down from ten.

"Is everyone done now?" she said. "Done? Good. While I appreciate your concern, I'm going to handle this. Myself. Understood?"

"No way, I'm coming to watch-,"

"Shepard, I should really go with you-,"

"Commander, I strongly recommend that you return to the Normandy-,"

"ENOUGH."

Each of them fell silent, startled by the strength of her vexation. Shepard took a moment to rub her temples. Yelling had cost her a lot, as far as her headache was concerned.

"Dr. Chakwas, report to the Normandy and set up whatever scans you feel you need to run once I get back. I will join you in the med bay shortly."

She glanced at the doctor, someone she also considered a friend, with a pleading look. Karin relented with a curt 'Aye, aye Commander' and took off at a brisk pace toward the docks.

"You two, if you're coming, you better keep up," she snapped.

XXX

When they finally made it back aboard the Normandy, Karin was waiting for her. She willingly submitted to the doctor's litany of tests, most of which she suspected served no other purpose than to torture her. Dr. Chakwas was well aware of how much the Commander hated medical procedures of any kind, and Shepard knew that the older woman was drawing them out on purpose.

By the time she escaped the doctor's clutches, she was exhausted. Garrus could see it in her face, as soon as she stepped through the door of the Main Battery.

"I don't have to be strong with you, right?"

Her voice sounded thin as she said it, and the turian regarded her with wary concern. He knew from experience that Shepard didn't often accept help- she would blatantly refuse it if she could. Since that night in the elevator, when he had tried to explain himself, tried to make her realize that he was there for her if she needed him; she hadn't given any indication that the message had gone through. She accepted his support at the time, but he still felt as if she were lightyears away from him, instead of right there by his side.

"Right," he said softly.

He was caught off guard when she collapsed against the bulkhead and slid to the floor, as if she had been waiting for his permission to hit the ground.

"Shepard!"

Garrus was by her side in a heartbeat, a heavy hand on her shoulder to help her sit up. To his continued surprise, she didn't fight off the assistance. Shepard leaned against his palm willingly. Her knees folded up to her elbows and she buried the heels of her hands into her eyes.

"Are you ok?" he asked, desperate with worry.

"I'm fine," she groaned, "but damn if this isn't one hell of a hangover."

Garrus only let himself relax when he saw her smile at him ruefully. He chuckled at her humor, and settled himself against the wall beside her. They sat in silence like that for a while, their shoulders pressed together, though there was plenty of space for them to sit comfortably without touching. Garrus rarely ever wore anything besides his armor, but he found himself feeling glad that he wasn't wearing it now. The warmth of her skin, felt through the layers of clothing that separated them, was comforting.

"Can I ask you something?" he said suddenly.

"Mhm," she murmured sleepily. Her head was tilted back against the bulkhead and he realized her eyes were closed. She looked vulnerable with the deep purple circles underlining the thick fan of lashes that hid her gaze and her lips parted ever so slightly. He noticed how pale she was, and his mandibles twitched with concern.

"Shepard, was that really you back there?"

One eye cracked open to regard him with confusion. He could see the irritation building in her expression, which puzzled him, until he understood how the question must have sounded.

He sounded just like Kaidan.

"What do you mean?" Her voice was guarded, her shoulders stiffening, a cold place opening up where the warmth of her arm used to rest against his.

"What you did to that Batarian," he said softly, "I'm not saying he didn't deserve it but..."

"But what?"

She was staring out at the main battery, her crystalline eyes hard as diamonds. Garrus could hear all the doors she had opened for him by coming here and showing him weakness, slamming closed. He suddenly regretted asking her at all.

"I just mean...was it really necessary?"

"I'm sorry," she said sharply, turning the pointed anger of her gaze on him, "what were you going to do to Sidonis when you find him?"

Garrus visibly flinched, a little startled by the directness of her attack. His mandibles flared, as the hurt of her words manifested as anger.

"I'm going to kill him," he said firmly. She turned away, satisfied, as if his answer justified her actions. Instinctively he grabbed her hand, pulling her attention back to him. "But with a clean shot from a balcony. I'm not going to make the guy drink poison- that was a little sadistic."

She was staring at his hand, wrapped around her fist, as if she were seeing it for the first time. At the word 'sadistic', she glanced up quickly, some emotion clouding her eyes. He wasn't sure what it was- human expressions were still a little hard for him to read, and Shepard's were always enigmatic. Whatever it was, he sensed it was something dark, because she slid her hand out of his grip a moment later.

"Justice is usually a little sadistic," she said softly.

"You don't really believe that...do you?"

She didn't answer. Instead, she pushed herself off the floor and stood. As bad as she had looked when she came in, he was surprised by the ease with which she managed to reach her feet. When she turned to look down at him, her face was expressionless.

"Revenge comes with a price, Garrus," she said softly. "Are you going to be able to pay it when the time comes?"

Shepard was gone before he could come up with an answer.


	4. Contrition

**Author's Note: **So from the last chapter, remember that thing Shepard was fiddling with that Jack couldn't see? This one goes back and forth a bit in the timeline, I hope anyone reading follows it all right.

In the aftermath, as the muffled sound of gunfire echoed into silence and the turian hit the ground with a lifeless thump, people began to panic.

This was the Citadel. Despite the proximity of the Council, crime was still a common part of life. Shootings in the street weren't unheard of. However, this was a populated area. Sidonis had requested the location specifically for it's busy illusion of safety. A turian's head bursting into brilliant blue and black shards of skull-plate, bone and blood was not an every day happening.

A woman to her left screamed and collapsed. Somewhere a child, she wasn't sure what kind, began to cry. Voices called for C-Sec, while the pace of footsteps in the background got faster as people turned and ran.

In the midst of the panic, Shepard remained an epicenter of calm. Like the eye of the storm, a reverent silence persevered, the empty body in front of her spilling cobalt fluid in a spreading pool on the floor. She stepped toward him without emotion, examining the crater that had erupted at the center of his forehead. The shot was clean. Precise. The tungsten round had passed straight through the back of his skull, just under the spiked fringe, and straight out through his brow plate. What was left of his last expression was something akin to surprise.

They always looked so surprised.

The heavy tread of boots alerted her to the approach of nearby C-Sec officers, summoned by the sounds of fear and alarm. Shepard assumed an air of authority as accusatory eyes peered out at her from behind the black gaze of raised weapons. She raised her hands, a universal gesture of surrender. As the most heavily armed person in the room, she had expected to become the immediate focus of their suspicion.

"You there! Stay where we can see you!"

"Everyone calm down," she said, her voice level. "My name is Shepard, I'm a Spectre."

"Shepard is dead," a young human male snapped. The others glanced his way, some confused. Mistake, she thought. Never take your eyes off the enemy.

"Captain Bailey will vouch for my identity," she said smoothly.

The oldest officer, a human in his thirties, brought his pistol down. The others relaxed one by one, hesitant and begrudging.

"LT, confirm with Captain Bailey," he barked. The young one with the mouth nodded and stepped off to the side, his omni-tool lighting up on his forearm. "The rest of you, secure the area."

As the other officers went about controlling the crowd, the leader approached Shepard.

"Spectre business, huh?"

She shrugged, letting her hands drop down by her sides.

"Something like that."

"I wish you people would give us some warning when there's going to be bodies involved," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Clean up is a pain in the ass."

"Sorry Officer, that's not always an option," she said.

"Yeah, yeah I know. I'm Officer Donogan," he said, shaking her hand. "I don't suppose there's anything you can tell me about the guy with a new hole in his head?"

"I didn't shoot him."

Donogan looked dubious, and his gaze flicked over her weapons. Then, he glanced over his shoulder and drifted a critical eye over the gaping black hole in the turian's head.

"I believe it. Even at close range, that pistol isn't going to do that kind of damage. Looks like a long range shot."

Shepard repressed the urge to smile. She appreciated the expertise of someone who knew what they were talking about when it came to gunfire. He turned back to her, his expression dry.

"Any idea who did?"

She shook her head silently. For a brief instant, she was taken back more than twenty years, to a little girl in dirty clothes, shaking her head to an old woman, asking '_Do you know who stole Mother's candy?_'

"Uh-huh," Donogan's voice was full of sarcasm. Shepard knew he believed her as much as that nun had. However, unlike then, no one here was in a position to challenge her word. He sighed and rolled his shoulders and bounced on his toes, looking every inch the beat cop that he was. "I guess in that case there's nothing else we need from you, Spectre. You're free to go."

"You don't need to wait for your LT to confirm who I am?"

"Frankly, I'm inclined to believe the woman with the grenade launcher," he said, gesturing to the weapon on her back. "Besides, I recognized you."

Shepard shook his hand, a small part of her tightening with disappointment that the encounter was already over. It's not that she enjoyed dealing with the aftermath of her actions, but she dreaded the short drive back to Garrus's position in the Mezzanine. She wasn't sure what she wanted to say to him yet.

She only had minutes to come up with the right words. There were hundreds of people in the galaxy who would tell you that Commander Shepard could talk her way out of anything. She was considered 'persuasive'. In fact, the only person who would tell you she _wasn't, _was Shepard. When it came to the people closest to her, she always felt like she was at a loss for words. She compensated for her verbal uncertainty by asking questions. There were plenty of sapient creatures who were always ready to talk. As someone who listened more than she spoke, Shepard had found that people made a lot of assumptions on your behalf. Often times, they came up with the things they wanted to hear on their own.

This, however was one of the times where something would be required of her. There had to be closure. Despite the apparent simplicity of the operation, there was nothing simple about it. It was all tangled up and filthy with emotions like loyalty, betrayal, and justice. It was that thing she hated, that word that followed her everywhere, that galactic misunderstanding that haunted her: it was _ruthless._

"_I learned from the best._"

He was changing before her eyes. His innocence, his idealism, his passionate belief in justice, had all become corrupted. Because of her. Because of Sidonis. Because the galaxy was an ugly place. It forced you to become an ugly person.

Sometimes she wondered if her ruthlessness wasn't weakness. If she were stronger, could she be better? Could she resist the temptation to play by the same dog-eat-dog rules, or would clinging to the bright hope of idealism blind her to the realities of life?

She thought of the datapad she kept tucked away on her person at all times, hoping that the right moment would present itself. It never did, and now the information on it's chip would do nothing but hurt him. Yet now, more than ever, she felt he needed to see it. As she parked the cab, her finger hesitated over the key that would open the cabin.

Did she give it to him, now? Or was the wound too fresh?

As soon as she saw his face, she felt her resolve shrinking, collapsing inward to the safe place she had built behind the wall of her bravado.

"That was easy enough," he said as he reached her. There was a cold fire in his eyes, a familiar sharpness that she recognized from the face in her bathroom mirror.

"Clean and simple," she said, smirking. She always appreciated his accuracy. "Good work."

Gunfire had brought them together. Gunfire was the thing they shared every day, the thing they both appreciated and respected. They were rivals, partners, teammates...they were friends. Relating over their professional respect felt safest.

But she wanted to wrap her arms around his waist, rest her forehead on his chest and murmur 'I'm sorry.' She wanted to wipe the anger from his gaze and make him smile again. She wanted to take back that moment when Sidonis pitched forward on his toes and hit the ground.

"Thanks for helping me Shepard," he sighed. "Let's get moving. I need to get away from this place."

"Right with you."

XXX

It was Liara who had given her the datapad.

The Shadow Broker's vessel was empty, save for themselves. The resistance had been slaughtered, as always, and their bodies either burned up or pushed out the airlock. In the silent aftermath of battle, the electromagnetic storm outside was a distant rumble, as if the fight were waiting to be re-lived- perhaps in a dream, or a moment of distraction.

Helping Liara take the Shadow Broker down had been an unexpected side-track from their stop at Illium. Shepard was relieved that she had managed to track down Thane and Samara before giving Liara the data provided by Cerberus. She hadn't expected to end up in such a remote system so soon. However, there was no chance that she and Garrus would refuse to help their friend.

He had taken a hard blow early in the fight, forcing Shepard and Liara to take down the Yahg on their own. Now, he waited patiently in the hallway, a hand on his head massaging his head and his wounded pride.

"Shepard, about Garrus."

She turned to the asari, surprised. They were digging through the terminals in the room, mutually searching for anything useful before the Commander departed. Shepard couldn't stay long- her mission had suddenly expanded into a litany of personal troubles she would have to help her crew members resolve. Liara had promised to forward anything else she found.

"What about him?" she asked, genuinely confused.

"I have something I think he needs to see," Liara said, looking bashful.

She handed a small datapad to the Spectre, her eyes downcast. Shepard read over the words briefly, scanning for relevant information. She stopped, and read through it in earnest. The words shot through her mind, freezing her thoughts in place. Garrus _did _need to see this.

"Was this in the Shadow Broker's files?"

"No," the asari said softly. "I've been keeping tabs...on everyone. I know what happened to his team."

Her eyes drifted sadly toward the turian standing oblivious in the hallway.

"He's going to kill him, you know that right?" Shepard held the datapad out a little forcefully. She didn't want to know what she had just read. She didn't want to stop him. She was afraid it wouldn't stop him.

"You can't let him do that, Shepard," Liara turned back to her, her expression fearful. "That's not who he is."

"It's what I would do," Shepard responded angrily.

"I know," she said softly. "But you have the strength to make peace with it. Garrus is different. He believes in his ideals. You can't let him give up on that."

"He's changed, Liara, I don't think he's quite so naive as he was back then," Shepard said, her voice dark. _You don't know him anymore, _her mind whispered, _I do._

"Neither am I," Liara pointed out sternly.

"Why not give this to him yourself?"

"You're right," she said, "he has changed. I wouldn't know the right time to give it to him. But you always knew him best."

Shepard opened her mouth, a protest, something to argue the implications of that statement, building in her throat. Liara raised an eyebrow, daring her to deny it.

"Please, Shepard. You've spent more time with him than any of us. Hundreds of combat hours spent side by side. Whether you admit it or not, the two of you are friends. _Good _friends. If anyone will know when to give this to him, it will be you."

But she didn't. She didn't know what the right time was. Until Sidonis was found, Garrus would hardly speak to her. He had retreated into his obsession, the pain and anger consuming him until there was nothing else left. Shepard didn't know how to draw him out of the fire. She hesitated to douse it with the truth. There had to be a confrontation- she couldn't draw him away from his ruthless pursuit.

The datapad became a constant accessory, a weight that dragged at her hip where ever she went. She was always aware of it's presence in her pocket. She pulled it out in private moments and re-read the half-written emails, the pleading explanations and the admission of guilt. He never asked for forgiveness.

Sometimes she stared at the turian's back, and wondered if it was the right time. He never seemed to notice her when she came in to the Main Battery that way. She would stand in the doorway and wonder, while he stood at the panel and obsessed. He obsessed over firing algorithms and he obsessed over leads until he found him.

Sitting in the bar, waiting for Jack to return with their drinks, she re-read the words for the hundredth time. Enveloped in the wrath and rage of the thudding bass, feeling dizzy and numb with liquor, she decided by now, the right time had passed. There would never be a right time to tell him. Garrus had found him and when they reached the Citadel he would kill him. She wouldn't lie to him, but she wouldn't stop him.

If he wanted to take justice into his own hands, he would have to be able to bear the weight of the truth that came with it.

XXXX

It was on their way to the next system that she found him, as always, alone in the Main Battery. The datapad felt heavy in her hands, making her fingers twitch to put it away and keep it hidden in her pocket. For a moment she stared at his armored back, as she had day after day since Liara and handed her the information. This time, unlike all the times before, he turned, sensing her troubled presence behind him.

"Shepard," he said, confusion in his voice. "What can I do-,"

He stopped when she forced the datapad into his unsuspecting hands.

"What is this?"

"Read it."

He hesitated, watching her with troubled eyes, before his head bent over the glowing words. She stepped off to the side, to wait. His expression as he read was inscrutable. The only indication she had of his reaction was the slightest tremor of his mandibles.

She already knew what the words said. While he studied Sidonis's unsent emails, she recited the turian's confession in her mind.

_I'm sorry. They had my family. I had no choice. _

When he spoke, his voice startled her.

"So he wasn't...he wasn't a traitor. Not really. They forced him."

Garrus looked up at her then, his face a muddled confusion of anger and hurt. It took all of her will power to meet the accusation in his eyes without flinching.

"Shepard where did this come from? How long have you known?"

"Liara gave it to me, when we took down the Shadow Broker," she whispered.

"That long? You've known _all this time, _and you said _nothing?" _He strode the short distance toward her, his shoulders bent forward with anger. She didn't back down, her posture rigid and resolute. "_Why?_ Why would you show me this? _Why now?_"

"I told you revenge comes with a price," she said steadily.

"What you wanted to see me squirm? You wanted to see if this would break me, after everything we've been through?!"

"Yes."

A shell-shocked silence fell between them. Garrus backed away from her a step, his head shaking ever so slightly from side to side. Shepard let the pain of his disbelief cut into her, and did not flinch. She could almost see herself, changing before his eyes into a stranger he did not trust. Couldn't trust. Their friendship was cracking open underneath her, their unusual bond shattering under the brutal force of betrayal. She could see it in his eyes.

"Why?" his voice was soft, plaintive.

"I needed to know I can count on you. I need to know you aren't going to fall apart when things get ugly. Because they will," she said reproachfully.

"Is that right?"

His brow plate had drawn down low over his eyes. He stepped toward her again, their faces only a few inches apart. Shepard could feel every nerve in her body firing with tension, prepared for violence, prepared for hurtful words, prepared to be cut down and abandoned as had always happened before.

She wanted to lean forward and press her mouth to his and whisper her contrition against his lips.

"Well, guess what?" he rumbled angrily, "I don't regret killing Sidonis and no matter how hard you try," his voice dropped down to a hiss, their foreheads almost touching, the heat of him washing over her in dizzying waves, "no matter how much you push me, _I'm not abandoning you." _

He pushed the datapad against her chest. She rocked back on her heels with the force and took it from him with weak fingers.

"Garrus-," and stopped. Everything she might have said had left her.

"Destroy it," he growled.

Then he turned heel and walked away.


End file.
